Love is Not All

Written by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone
Yet any man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release
Or nagged by want past resolution's power
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It might be.  I do not think I would.

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